Tame
by Sauron Gorthaur
Summary: When young Prince Loki saves an orphaned wolf cub and decides to keep it as his pet, he could never have known the irony of the situation, or that his action would have deeper repercussions than anyone guessed. Ties in with the beginning of "The Dark World" but no spoilers. Four-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**Tame  
****by Sauron Gorthaur**

"Race you back to the village," said Thor, accompanying the words with a light nudge that sent Loki stumbling several steps sideways.

The eight-year-old boy rubbed his shoulder and sniffed at his older brother's suggestion. "No," he snorted disparagingly. "Not unless I get to ride a horse."

"Ah, come on," Thor said, "that wouldn't be a fair race."

Loki rolled his eyes. "And it would be a fair race otherwise? You've just got a problem with fairness when it isn't in your favor."

"I'll give you a head start."

Loki gave him a dry look. "How about we see which one of us can conjure a better illusion of me punching you in the face?"

Thor grinned and gave his brother a soft shove that almost overbalanced him. "We still need to get back and quickly whether we race or not," the blonde-haired prince replied. "Come on, Loki, can't you walk in a straight line. You look like you sneaked some mead. They're going to leave us behind if you don't hurry up."

Loki regained his balance and shot Thor a glare that is universally reserved for brothers to use against one another. "They're not going to leave us behind," he said derisively. "We're the princes. And anyway, they'd notice right away that your loud mouth was missing."

"I don't have a loud mouth," Thor protested.

Loki ignored him and started walking. "On second thought, they might leave you behind so that the palace can have some peace and quiet for a while."

Thor quickly caught up and trotted beside him. "It's you they'd leave behind if they wanted that. No pranks, no mischief. Mother and Father would probably go on holiday. Freyr probably let you wander off on purpose so they could escape back to Asgard and leave you here."

"Well, that wouldn't work because _I_ know how to get back."

Loki poked his tongue out at his brother and starting running. Thor laughed and followed, soon passing him as he dashed towards the Vanaheim village where they'd been told to regroup when the sun reached its peak.

He'd run about thirty seconds or so when he realized that Loki had vanished from his side. Grinding to a halt in the smooth pebbles that made up the path, he turned and found his brother standing some twenty paces behind him, staring into the yellow field of tall grass surrounding them.

"Loki," he called, "what are you doing? Really, they're going to be annoyed if we aren't there in time."

Loki didn't look at him but held up a hand. "Do you hear that?"

Thor listened for a second but heard nothing except the hiss of the wind over the long grass, meadow lark song, and the chirr of insects in the long weeds. He shifted impatiently. "I don't hear anything. Come on, Brother, if they leave without us and it's your fault-"

"Shhh," Loki interrupted irritably. "You can't hear it because you're talking."

Thor folded his arms and was about to reply when he too suddenly heard it: a high-pitched sound half-way between a whine and a wavering yelp. Something was crying.

Loki exchanged a look with Thor then dashed off into the tall grass.

"Hey!" Thor yelled, following. "Loki, come back here!"

He thrashed the long grass aside with his arms, trying not to lose sight of the bobbing black-haired head dashing in front of him. He was just getting extremely annoyed when he burst through the grass and found himself in a clearing about three feet across where the grass had been flattened, almost as if something large had slept there recently. Kneeling in the middle was Loki, bending over something, something small and furry, something that was whimpering quietly.

"Loki, that's a wolf!" Thor exclaimed.

"I know what it is," the younger prince replied, giving Thor a look that said _duh_. "It's just a cub; it's not going to bite me." He sat down in the dust and pulled the crying animal into his lap much to Thor's horror.

"Mother's going to have a fit; that's a brand new tunic," he protested. Only yesterday one of Loki's mischievous escapades had ended up with both of them drenching themselves in the Sea. Queen Frigga had been less than pleased when her two sons showed up soaking wet to dinner, their best garments ruined, and when she had outfitted them that morning with new clothing for the trip to Vanaheim, she had given Loki a hard look. "Behave for Freyr, don't cause trouble, and please, let's see if we can't make these clothes last out the rest of the week."

Loki made a face at Thor and dusted off the dark green fabric. "What, it's dust – it's not going to ruin it." The wolf cub yelped and began nuzzling into Loki's side, drawing back the younger prince's attention. He stroked the downy, light grey fur on the top of its head, and the yelps reverted to the soft crying whimpers.

Thor shifted from one foot to the other and glanced up at the sun. It was already at its zenith. He looked back down, opening his mouth to urge his brother to get a move on, but Loki had vanished. Again.

"_Loki_," Thor said, his voice verging on an exasperated whine. "We've got to go. I'm hungry."

There was a rustle in the tall grass across the clearing from him, and Loki's angular face appeared. Thor expected one of his brother's usual jibing ripostes, but the black-haired boy looked unusually grim. He beckoned Thor. "You should see this." The grass closed back in around him again with a soft swish.

Thor sighed and pushed through the grass, following the faint sounds of Loki's movements just in front of him. He frowned as he noticed the dark brown splotches on the grass in a clear trail that his brother was following, and he picked up his pace. A moment later, he glimpsed something dark lying low and pressing down the grass around it, then he saw the thin figure beside it. The wolf cub gave another barking yelp from somewhere close by.

The blonde prince's breath caught at the sight of the fully grown female wolf with Loki standing not two paces from its muzzle. He took a fighting stance, one hand going to the dagger he carried at his side, ready to jump between Loki and the beast, but then he saw the two arrows sticking in the wolf's flank and realized that it wasn't breathing.

He stepped up beside Loki who was holding the crying cub and looking unusually somber. "It must have been at the Vanir's livestock," Thor said. "It's only been dead a couple hours."

Loki nodded, looking down at his small burden, and frowned. "I'm taking him with me," he said suddenly, "I'm going to keep him."

Thor turned to him in astonishment. "What? No, you can't do that. It's a wild animal, Brother. Mother and Father would never let you keep it."

The younger prince turned on him, his green eyes blazing and his sharp chin jutting out defiantly. "It'll die if we leave it. Its mother's dead, so it'll starve. Would you really do that to this?" he said, holding up the cub which looked curiously at Thor with large, dark eyes. "And anyway, you've got a dog and Father's got his ravens; why can't I have a pet, too?"

Thor chewed on his lip. He knew his brother could be unbelievably stubborn – not that he couldn't be himself – but the wolf _was_ awfully cute, and it _did_ seem pretty cruel to leave it to its fate, which he had no doubt would be exactly as Loki had pronounced it.

"Come on, Thor," Loki cajoled. "He needs us. And I'll need your help." Thor looked up, surprised; Loki never asked for his help. "I know I can convince Mother to let me keep him," the younger prince continued, "but I'm going to need you to get Father to agree. They're going to understand that we couldn't just let him die." He gave Thor a wide-eyed, pleading look. "Please, Thor."

Thor gave him a long stare – he'd been on the receiving end of Loki's manipulative charm a number of times, generally with the same result – and he realized that this time wasn't going to be any different. He sighed. "All right, if it gets you back to the village and Asgard. Just as long as you know that Father isn't going to be pleased with you dragging a wild animal into the palace."

Loki smirked, a smug expression settling over his face. He hitched the wolf higher up in his arms to carry it more comfortably. "With you, me, and Mother all working on him, I don't think it'll be a problem." He tickled under the wolf's chin. "And he's not a wild animal, Thor; he's my pet now. Look, he already knows he's in the family," he said with a grin as the wolf licked his neck.

Thor relented and reached over, stroking the cub's muzzle and getting a nibble on the fingers in return. "I think he's hungry," he said smiling. "And I'm starving. If they've left without us, I'm going to pummel you."

When the two princes, plus a small grey wolf, dashed back into the village, they found the small party waiting – impatiently, but waiting. ("Told you they wouldn't leave without us," Loki muttered out of the corner of his smirking mouth to Thor as they trotted up.) The small educational trip was led by Freyr who'd agreed to take the group of Asgardian children to his home world while they were currently learning about Vanir culture. The god of the harvest looked down, frowning, as the two tardy boys joined the group, one looking appropriately abashed that they were late, the other with an unrepentant grin on his face and a grey bundle in his arms. Freyr had little doubt about which one was responsible. He opened his mouth to speak, but Loki beat him to it.

The black-haired prince held up his trophy. "I found a pet wolf. I saved his life," he announced proudly.

Before Freyr could get a word in, the other children had crowded around to see.

"A wolf! I want a pet wolf!" Fandral crowed.

"Did you and Thor really save his life?" Sif asked.

"Can I hold him, Prince Loki?" Volstegg requested. "Look at those teeth. Are you going to raise him to be your battle wolf?"

"Quiet, quiet." Freyr shooed the excited young Æsir away and looked down at the prince and his new-found pet. He sighed. "Prince Loki, I'm sorry, but I really can't allow this…" he began, but a scowl immediately darkened Loki's face.

"I'm not leaving him," Loki said stubbornly.

"It's a wild animal," Freyr persisted gently. "It could be dangerous. You can't take it back to Asgard. It doesn't belong there."

Loki's scowl deepened. "Well, he doesn't belong _here_. Your people shot his mother," he added accusingly.

"That's what happens," Freyr said. "The wolves get into the livestock sometimes, and they need to be dealt with. It's the same on every world. You can't change nature."

Loki's green eyes flashed. "But I can save this wolf's life."

Before Freyr could speak again, Thor stepped in between them. Although at first he'd been unsure about the idea himself, once he had decided to stand beside his brother, Thor was determined to see their plan carried out. He faced the god of the harvest boldly. "Just give him a chance. Surely it won't hurt for us to ask Mother and Father about it. If they say no, we'll bring the wolf right back and there won't be any more trouble. Will there, Brother?" he said, turning to Loki.

Loki's scowl transformed back into his customary smirk. "But they will say yes, and so it won't matter," he said.

Freyr rubbed a hand through his wavy wheat-blonde hair, looked briefly up at the sky, then sighed. "All right, but I take no responsibility for anything the Allfather has to say." He gave both the princes stern looks. "This had better not end in trouble."

"It won't," Thor said firmly.

"Well, come on then, everyone," Freyr said, herding them into a tight circle. The Vana looked up into the clear midday sun. "Heimdall, take us back to Asgard," he called out to the Watchman.

Seconds before they were enveloped in the rainbow hues of Bifrost, Loki looked down at his new tunic and had a sudden thought as the wolf cub whimpered in fright at the shimmering beams of light streaking around them. He pushed the cub into his brother's arms. "If he's frightened, Brother, he'll feel safer with someone big and strong like you," he said with a worried look in answer to Thor's confused expression.

Seconds later, the light was fading around them and they were standing in Heimdall's gatehouse at the entrance to Asgard. And one second later, Thor gave an indignant howl. "Loki, your new pet just ruined my tunic!"

Loki gave him a look of pristine innocence.


	2. Chapter 2

"Loki, what in nine worlds were you thinking, bringing that creature back here?"

The young prince stood downcast, staring at his toes with his hands linked behind his back, refusing to look up at the golden throne and his father. A few feet away, the wolf cub, whom he'd named Skól, was making loud lapping sounds as it drank greedily from a bowl of milk that Queen Frigga had brought at her two sons' begging requests. The queen herself stood quietly to the right side of the steps leading up to Odin's seat, while Thor stood over Skól, holding an impromptu rope leash and making sure the cub didn't get into trouble while simultaneously trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of listening to his brother getting scolded.

"He was hungry," Loki said quietly. "Look, he obviously needed food." He pointed to the cub as it emitted a satisfied growl while still lapping furiously at its milk.

Odin barely glanced at the wolf. Instead, he leaned forward in his throne and narrowed his eye at his son. "And that, you think, was justification for bringing it here? What exactly do you think we are going to do with a wolf in the palace of Asgard?"

"I can keep him for a pet," Loki said, lifting his eyes. "It's no different than Thor's dog."

"It's a wolf, Loki," Odin barked. "It's a wild animal."

Loki's eyes immediately fell back to his feet and his thin shoulders visibly slumped.

Odin sighed and leaned back. "If you wanted a pet, all you needed to do was tell us. I am sure your mother and I could have found you a perfectly suitable dog in Asgard."

"But Skól's done nothing wrong," Loki protested. Even with his downcast expression, his eyes still gleamed. "Why can't you give him a chance? I'll take good care of him, I'll train him, I'll do everything that needs to be done. He's only a wild animal if you throw him back out into the wild."

Odin fingered the golden shaft of Gungnir, shook his head, then beckoned his younger son forward. Loki slowly plodded up the steps to stand directly in front of the throne, then stood kicking at the floor. The Allfather leaned forward again and put his free hand on Loki's arm, causing the young prince to look up and into his eye. "Loki," Odin said softly, "it was born to run and hunt in the woods of Vanaheim, not to sit cooped up in the palace of Asgard. It will not be happy here, my son. It will be best for it, and for you, if it goes back to Vanaheim. Where it belongs."

Anger flashed green through Loki's eyes, and he stepped back, out of his father's reach. "Then I should have let him die?" Loki demanded. "You don't understand. He had nothing in Vanaheim. I found his mother full of arrows, and if I hadn't heard him crying, he would starved to death or worse." He took another step back, glaring at both his parents in turn. "No one else was going to take care of him. How did he _belong_ there?" He glared back at his father. "You're just mean. Maybe you would have done so, but I wasn't going to just ignore him and let him die!"

As Loki spoke, his voice rising in volume, he was surprised to see that it was not anger that crossed Odin's face. The Allfather's face tightened, his mouth becoming a thin line, and his hand on Gungnir tightened until his knuckles were white. But there was no anger on his face, but something that almost reminded Loki of sorrow. Odin's eye flickered to Frigga and a look passed between them that Loki would not understand until many, many years later. Odin closed his eye, sighed deeply, then looked back up at his impulsive son.

"No, Loki, I would not," Odin said in a soft voice that resonated gently through the golden hall.

He took a deep breath, as if not completely sure that what he was about to say was a good thing. "You may keep the wolf, my son, as long as you care for it and make sure that it causes no problems about the palace or anywhere in Asgard. No problems, do you understand? Now, you may go."

Loki stared up at him in stunned silence for a second before a huge grin broke out over his face and he raced down to where his new pet had finished its milk and greeted its rescuer's approach with an appreciative whine. The prince dropped to his knees and grinned as the wolf put its front paws on his lap and strained up to lick at his face.

After the two princes, along with Skól, had departed, Queen Frigga exchanged a second look with the Allfather. Odin shook his head slowly, staring at the door through which his sons had departed. "Why do I already have a feeling I'm going to regret this?" he said grimly, standing.

Frigga put her hand on his arm as he came to stand beside her. "You can't blame him for having the same compassion you had, and surely you cannot regret your own compassion over all these years." She slipped her hand over his. "If he can turn out like you, why can we not hope the same for his pursuit?"

"It's a wolf," said Odin. "It's not tame, and it never will be."

Frigga's mouth tightened. "If that is true, then what must we say of our son?"

Odin's eye took on a distant look. "As a father, I have never regretted for a moment what I did that day in Jotunheim. But as the Allfather…" He shook his head and leaned on Gungnir. "Only time can tell, Frigga. Only time can tell."

~o~o~o~

"Here, Skól, bring it to me."

Skól trotted up to his new master, a lamb leg bone from last night's supper clamped between his teeth, growling cheerfully and wagging his tail. Loki knelt and took hold of one end of the bone, giving it a tug. Skól growled and tugged back, his little paws digging into the grass to find a good foothold and his tail stretched out straight behind him as he strained backward. Loki laughed, wiggling the bone back and forth. In his determination to win, Skól's entire head and front half wiggled back and forth as well as the wolf kept his teeth firmly clamped around his play thing.

Finally, Loki pried it loose and stood up while Skól yelped and jumped up at his knees in excitement. Smiling widely, Loki threw the bone across the palace gardens and watched as Skól streaked after it like a grey comet.

Seconds later, the wolf was back, the bone once more between its teeth, and Loki dropped back down to his knees, ruffling the floppy, oversized ears and stroking underneath its downy grey chin. The boy stretched out in the grass, propped up by one elbow, continuing to grin and pet the wolf as it gnawed on its bone and finally settled in the grass next to him where it placed a huge awkward paw on the lamb leg to keep it steady while it tried to get at the marrow.

Loki congratulated himself mentally at his success, but he was still somewhat surprised and puzzled by Odin's reactions. Despite his cool confidence in front of Thor and Freyr, he had not been fully convinced that he could persuade his parents. In the Vanaheim field, the task had seemed much easier and simpler, and it was always less daunting to picture a confrontation with his father in his mind than it was to do so in real life. Once he had actually been standing before the Allfather's throne, his confidence in his success had diminished dramatically – he had already started thinking about what spells might work to sneak the wolf into his room and keep it there without anyone knowing.

But the Allfather had changed his mind. Loki frowned. Thor might not have noticed the subtle look that had passed between Odin and Frigga, but Loki had always been observant. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the wisps of shredded cloud drifting low in the sky. It was almost like his father and mother had suddenly felt sorry, that they almost _pitied_ him.

But that did not matter, he told himself. He'd gotten what he wanted, and as Skól nuzzled up against his side, Loki felt his smile returning.

What mattered was that he now had a companion to keep him company when Thor and all his friends disappeared for their afternoon and evening jaunts, leaving him alone in a dark, quiet palace. What mattered was that he had someone to talk to and play with when he was taken by his dark moods (the ones he was ashamed to tell his mother and father about) and he felt as if he simply did not _belong_ with the others, that he could never fit in beside his handsome, strong older brother, that he was somehow, irrevocably, out of place.

What mattered was that he had found a friend.


	3. Chapter 3

_Two years later_

"Father, please, I promise, it won't happen again."

Loki stared desperately up at his father sitting in the throne in front of him. When the prince had first been summoned to appear before the king of Asgard, he had thought Odin would be angry, but the Allfather looked more tired and solemn now than wrathful. He himself only felt a prickling behind his eyes and his vision didn't seem as clear as usual.

"Skól was just excited, Father, and when he saw that Thor had that chicken leg-"

A resounding tap from Gungnir against the shimmering floor silenced the young prince. Odin shook his head. "Loki, you can blame excitement for the time your wolf got into the kitchen and ate or ruined the entire New Year feast. You can blame playfulness for the time he got loose in the city and it took a whole regiment of the guards hours to track him down and finally corner him. You can blame Tyr for startling him that time your wolf tore a hole out of his pants with his teeth. But, Loki, you can only blame Skól's own nature this time."

Loki kicked the top step in response.

"My son," Odin went on, more softly, "this is not some playful mischief. Your brother, luckily, is strong and very capable at defending himself, but what if it had been young Sif? Your mother? It could even have been you. Your "pet" has sent a healthy, strong young prince to our healers on crutches with holes in his leg that a dagger would be proud of making. He's dangerous, Loki."

"It's not his fault," Loki said, his voice treacherously unsteady. "It was just an accident. I'll train him better. I'll make sure it never, ever happens again. Please, Father, just give him a second chance."

"This was his second chance," Odin said, his voice growing sterner.

Loki raised his eyes in surprise, his mouth opening slightly in protest, but Odin's sharp gaze silenced him. "Your wolf bit Thor a few months ago already. He told me it tried to bite Fandral, and your brother was just able to chase it off with a few scratches and a bite on the arm. He didn't want you to know about it, and he was able to convince me to give the creature a second chance because he knows what it means to you, but this can't go on. One time can be written off as a mistake. Two times and you know the true nature of what you're dealing with. Skól is a wild animal, and nothing, _nothing_, is going to change that. And wild animals don't belong in the palace."

Loki swallowed, struggling to keep his composure. It felt like a stone had settled inside his chest. "I'll take Skól back to Vanaheim tomorrow morning, Father," he murmured in a subdued voice.

Odin stood, leaning Gungnir against the throne then stepping forward. He put his hand on the boy's shoulder, causing the prince to look up straight into his face. "Loki," he said, "the wolf can't go back to Vanaheim."

A spark of fear and disbelief lit Loki's eyes. Odin went on before he could speak. "It can't go back to the wild now. It's grown to rely on people to feed and care for it; it does not know how to hunt or protect itself. But most of all, it has learned not to fear people. As long as it lives, it will continue to return to people, a danger to them and their livelihood, but not afraid of them as is proper, a problem for both us and it. It is no longer truly wild, but nor will it ever be tame, and that is the most dangerous combination of all."

Finally, the mist in Loki's eyes turned to liquid. He twisted away from his father's hand and hid his face, ashamed of the tears that he quickly tried to scrub away with his arm. The golden floor at his feet swam nauseatingly.

Odin put his arm around the shaking boy's shoulders. "I'm sorry, my son," he said, but Loki wrenched himself away, almost tripping back down the stairs.

Oblivious now to the tears shimmering in his eyes, he turned to look back up at the Allfather. "You don't care!" he yelled. "You were against us from the beginning. You _knew_ this would happen! You were just waiting for this to happen so that you could condemn the only friend I have. If you hate him so much, why don't you swing the axe yourself? I should have known you'd never think he belonged here. I hate you!"

Loki spun around and fled before his father could speak another word, his heart hammering in his ears and tears blurring his vision as helpless anger, disappointment, and sorrow tore at him.

~o~o~o~

Loki laid the last stone on top of the small mound then sat back on his heels, staring blankly down. It had taken him three hours and many more trips than that down to the Sea beach to collect enough smooth stones to cover the entire grave. Thor had offered to help him, but Loki had ignored him and his apologies and run, creating an illusion of himself darting off down one of the side allies to distract his brother when he chased after him, hobbling on his crutches, while in reality Loki slipped back around behind him to the garden instead. There he buried Skól alone, dry-eyed, tight-lipped, but with a crushing loneliness pressing down on his senses.

The front of his tunic was dirty from carrying the stones. His knees were sore from kneeling on the hard earth. His back and arms ached from the hours of hard labor. There was a crisp wind blowing from the Sea that chilled Loki to the bone. He wrapped his arms around himself and felt the deep, jerking breaths trying to come out of his mouth as sobs, but he shoved them angrily back down.

All he had wanted was a friend. All he had wanted was something to take care of, to prove that he was responsible, to be like his brother and his father. All he had wanted was a chance. _I'm a failure,_ his mind told him again and again. _I should have known I could never tame him._ He rocked slowly back and forth, his knees drawn all the way up to his face with his arms wrapped around them.

"Loki."

He jerked as his mother sat down beside him. She looked tired. He considered fleeing from her as he had from his father and Thor, but she didn't fall for his tricks as easily as they did. Before he could run, she wrapped her arms around him and drew him to her, gently stroking his black hair and murmuring, "Oh Loki, I'm sorry." He stiffened and fought himself for a moment, then he gave in to his emotions, and for a while, he sobbed into her shoulder.

The queen let him cry for a while, rubbing his back as he did, but finally she drew him back to an arm's length and let him wipe his eyes off on his sleeve. "I made you something," she said, and from the folds of her dress, she pulled out what looked like a slate of crystal. Loki recognized the magic immediately and took it, examining the intricate decorations and runes that had been magically carved into its clear, shimmering surface. When he held it just right, it reminded him of the rainbow light of Bifrost swirling around him.

"Thank you," he said in a small, hoarse voice, still holding the slate tight in both hands and looking down at it.

Frigga put a gentle hand on his shoulder, and he looked back up at her, tears starting to form in his eyes again. "I don't understand why he had to die like this," he sniffled.

Frigga sighed. "Your father has already explained to you the reasons why."

"No," Loki said, "not that. Why did you let me keep him in the first place? I should have left him in Vanaheim." His hands balled into fists of helpless rage. "He was going to die all along. He never belonged here because he was never meant to live. He was always just a stupid, wild animal."

The queen took his face between her hands. "That's not true, Loki. He had a good life, and it's not your fault that it ended this way. You did everything you possibly could have done. We can never know where a path will lead us until we take it. That doesn't mean that we shouldn't take chances, though. This isn't a failure; it's a lesson."

She leaned forward and kissed the top of his head. "We love you, son."

Loki knelt once more in the churned up dirt and grass and placed the crystal slate at the head of the grave, pushing it into the dirt until it stood up of its own accord as a headstone. He stood and stepped back, once again reading the words carved there: _Here lies Skól of Vanaheim and Asgard, a fierce friend._

Loki sniffed and turned away. _A lesson_, his mother had told him, but Loki was not sure what lesson he had learned, or that he liked the suggestions his heart still whispered to him.


	4. Chapter 4

_Many, many years later_

Asgard was unusually silent that afternoon. There were no Æsir bustling about the streets on their various day-to-day errands or children playing in pleasant late summer weather. There were no dogs howling and no horses clomping down the golden pavement. The wind from the Sea hissed emptily against the gleaming walls of the palace. There was nothing to dull the sound of the clanking chains.

The young man being led through the palace gates was flanked by golden-clad guards, his feet, wrists, and even his body bound by chains that rattled dolefully with every step he took. Despite his bonds, he still carried himself with a proud, almost nonchalant air, and a curiously mocking smirk hovered around his lips. But his eyes stared blankly ahead.

They had almost reached the doors of the palace when the man stopped abruptly, earning menacing spear tips pointed at him from his guards. The man ignored them contemptuously and stared off beyond them at the edge of the paved path where the trodden grass led down into the garden. Something glistened in the afternoon sun like the light of Bifrost.

"What are you stopping for?" one of the guards demanded. "Your father is waiting, prince."

The man laughed, a mirthless, uncanny sound that did not belong in the quiet, beautiful city of the gods. "Don't call me 'prince.' You know well enough that title never belonged to me here." He laughed again, soft this time, but no less strange. "And believe me, the Allfather has been waiting a long time for this day. I don't think it's going to break his old heart to wait a few minutes longer to pass sentence on me."

He stepped off the path and immediately had a spear point at his chest. "What are you doing?" the same guard demanded warily.

The man brushed the spear aside with his bound hands. "Afraid, are you?" he said with that odd quirk in his lips and a green light in his eyes. "Think I might just blow up the palace, escape back to Midgard, and kill the Allfather and your oaf of a prince on the way?"

The guard swallowed in a way that suggested that this might have been unnervingly close to what he was thinking. The man sneered and held up his hands. "Believe me, if I could escape, I'd have done it a long time before now. Plenty of precautions have been taken, don't worry. I'm _dangerous_."

One of the other guards gave the first guard a cautious nod, and he lowered his spear. The prisoner ignored him and walked slowly into the garden, still flanked by wary Asgardian soldiers, until he came to stop at a spot of earth close by the palace wall.

The guards looked at each other, obviously confused and surprised. There was nothing particularly spectacular about the patch of ground their prisoner had chosen to look at. They could see that long ago, someone had carefully covered it with smooth shore stones, many hours' labor, but the grass had long since crept up over the small mound. The only thing of note was the crystal slate, half-hidden behind the grass and tilted to the side, but it still shone faintly in many different beautiful hues. The prisoner stared down at it, his face inscrutable.

Suddenly, there was a boy kneeling in the grass before the mound. The guards stepped back in surprise, instinctively raising their spears, before they realized the truth. The quietly weeping boy had the same features as the prisoner: the same raven hair, the same bright, calculating eyes, the same angular face. But the boy's face carried a youthful innocence and sorrow that the older version of himself had long since lost.

Loki stood looking down at his boyhood self that he had summoned from his memory and with the small amount of magic that had not been Bound. As he watched, the young Loki reached out and put his hand on the crystal slate. _I'm sorry,_ the child said, his voice a faint echo of a memory. _I'm sorry I brought you here. But what do you care? You were just a wild animal. You were never my friend. I was stupid to think you could ever have belonged with me. I'm sorry._

Of course, now Loki understood the terrible irony of the whole situation that had been lost upon his younger, ignorant self. Now he understood why Odin and Frigga could never in good conscience have refused him what he had asked. But in his damaged, hurting mind, he supplied his own lessons to that long ago day when his adoptive mother had knelt beside him and told him (_a lie_) that he was not a failure.

Without warning, Loki kicked out as best he could with his manacled legs. The illusion vanished in a ripple of yellow-green light, and a spray of dirt flew against the palace wall. Another kick sent stones, earth, and grass flying. The guards stepped back in perturbation as they watched the former prince of Asgard viciously destroy a mound of dirt. One particularly large stone smashed into the crystal slate, shattering it into a thousand shards of glistening light.

Loki stepped back, his breathing hard, staring down at the small site of ruin that he had created and destroyed. His eyes flashed wildly, then he lifted his head and looked toward the palace, that uncanny smile still flickering around his lips. "_One time can be written off as a mistake. Two times and you know the true nature of what you're dealing with_," he said. "Isn't that right, Father?"

He turned back to his guards. "Well, lead on," he said to them, his teeth showing in a taunting grin. "We mustn't keep the Allfather waiting."

The End

**A/N: This being my first time writing in this fandom, I was happy to see so much interest in my story. Thanks to all of you who read, favorited, and followed this four-shot, and a big thanks to those of you who reviewed. 'Tis much appreciated! Cheers! – Sauron Gorthaur**


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